Monday, February 23, 2015

I received my copy of "Road and Track" over the weekend. The article comparing the new 2015 Chevyy SS and a classic BMW M5 immediately caught my eye. Dad often said if he had a million bucks (non pun intended), he'd drive an M5. A little background is in order here... one of dad's favorite cars was his 1983 BMW 320i, similar to the one below...

Another favorite of Dad's was his 1996 Impala SS... when this car first appeared as a concept vehicle, one of the car magazines wrote a wonderful article that stated "Lord Vader, your car is ready." Very appropriate, given the car was only available in black its first year of production and had a Vette motor and equally impressive handling upgrades.

So knowing my father had an affinity for Super Sport Chevys (he also owned a 1966 Chevelle SS with a 396 big block) and BMW's... I was immediately drawn to the comparison. The article, like most in Road and Track, is very well written and conveys more than the numbers. It succeeds in placing the reader in both cars as they drive down a foggy highway along the coast of California and with colorful descriptive language like "all that voodoo between its fenders..." it's a quick and enjoyable read.

Articles like this take me back to conversations with my father... about cars, motorcycles and other pleasures in life that enabled him to live a very interesting life. I learned a lot from my father, but the life lesson I enjoyed the most and continue to enjoy, is to drive a car that makes me feel alive. I will always own a car that I love to drive... life's too short not to.

Sunday, February 08, 2015

Watching the Beloved Red Wings was a past time shared by Dad and I. We would spend time together (virtually) watching the games and calling each other after good guy goals and wouldn't call when the bad guys scored. We'd talk about the team, player interviews, Don Cherry's ridiculous suits and ties and anything Red Wings related. If the Wings were obviously going to lose, one or the other would pick up the phone to say "Alright, I'm done, don't bother calling me if you stick with it." If it was a close one the understanding was we wouldn't call if we lost. No point in that! We'd just pick up at the next game. There were even a few superstitions we shared about when the Wings or the other team would score. We would call each other quickly after each goal, lest the other team get the chance to answer with one of their own and cut off our chance to talk to each other. Most of our calls ended with a phrase like "Alright, call you when we go up by two!" if we were leading by one or "Call you when we tie this up" if we were trailing by one. So many phrases were standard we would say them together at the same time, like: "There's still a lot of hockey left!" which was an interchangeable phrase used both when we were down or up. One of Dad's favorites when we were up by more than a goal was his emphatic exhortation to finish out strong: "Skate to the throat!"

Our Wings are doing well right now and I miss being able to call him after a goal. More than a few times I've reached for the phone after a goal, only to catch myself and stop. It's a sad feeling that.

The first game after arriving back home from saying goodbye to Dad was especially hard. I watched most of it through teary eyes and when the Wings won, I broke down and cried. Won't ever be able to share that post game celebration phone call with him again and it hurts.

Apologies for the sporadic and limited posting. We will strive to improve.

Just know gentle reader, that he's in our thoughts daily and is with us wherever we go.

The plan for his ash-spreading soiree is slowly coming together. More to follow on that.